


Reunion

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Chris is smitten, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Teasing, There's some angst at least, Vanilla, post-Revelations, thanks i hate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: “Switching partners was a mistake.” Chris murmured, voice hot and low in her ear.





	Reunion

“Switching partners was a mistake.” Chris murmured, voice hot and low in her ear. Jill felt the heat of his breath lap at the sensitive skin of her neck and it elicited a shudder that slowly crept along her spine. She found herself pinned between the wall of the elevator and the sturdy frame of his body and she willed herself to focus on the dull chime that rung with each floor they passed, lest she give in to the insistent press of his thigh between her own.

“Chris.” Her voice was huskier than usual and, unintentionally, a little sharp. He could hear her unspoken command, her internal shriek of _what the hell Chris, we’re in a public elevator and this is not the place nor the time_ , but god dammit, he had _missed_ her. He pressed his face against the side of hers and nuzzled against her skin, appreciating the scent of the salt of the ocean and the faint hint of jasmine that was so distinctly _Jill._

Chris Redfield had been scared in the past, certainly, but he had not experienced pure, unadulterated fear before O’Brian had uttered those words in his ear– _we’ve lost contact with Jill._ A million possibilities had raced through his mind in that moment, but he had not allowed himself to consider the one possibility that terrified him the most, the possibility that she could have _died_ on that stupid fucking ship in the midst of the dark and solemn sea.

He would have wrung O’Brian’s throat with his own bare hands had it happened. Chris was sure of that.

Pulling away from the side of her neck, Chris leaned back, lightening his weight that had been shifted onto Jill. He took her face in his hands and tilted her chin upwards to angle her face towards his, allowing the rough pad of his thumb to graze over the smooth flesh of her cheek.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.” His voice was hoarse with emotion and cracked mid-confession on something wet that had surfaced in his throat. The mere notion of it was like a punch square in the chest–it _winded_ him just to ponder it and came coupled with a burning at the back of his sternum that made him openly wince.

Jill’s expression softened, his anguish cleaving through the fog of lust that had enveloped her. She looked up at him and gave him a sympathetic smile, wounded by his words knowing that she had inadvertently been responsible for his grief. “Chris…”

Her voice was always so cool and even, confident even when faced with danger, and could calm the nerves of just about anyone within earshot, but the sound of his name in her mouth always managed to placate him even further. Chris enjoyed it in any context, but, in that moment, he wanted to hear her _whimper_ it.

Chris let out a slow, deep breath as they waited for the elevator to complete its ascent. It was an agonizing trial of his patience, and, when met with the opening of the doors, he all but sprinted into the hallway. Jill calmly followed him down the carpeted path to one of the familiar penthouses that the BSAA often opened for its operatives.

The moment the front door clicked shut with an audible sound, Chris was pressed against her once again, pinning her between the front door and himself. He captured her mouth with his own, needy and insistent with his movements, coaxing a quiet gasp of surprise from her. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the access, tasting her more fully with a testing sweep of his tongue.

Jill’s fingers raked through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, her other hand poised against his broad shoulder. Within the privacy of the apartment, she willfully granted him free reign of her body. Though she was a private person, the strength with which she clung to him was telling enough–she had missed him too. What she didn’t communicate with words, Jill made up for with the language of her body, and Chris was more than eager to memorize each and every syllable she had to offer.

She had felt numb when she first deployed to the Queen Zenobia. Her mind had been perpetually haunted by hypothetical scenarios about Chris’s whereabouts. Discovering Rachel had nearly thrown her into a state of panic. _What if Chris…_

The possibilities echoed like a mantra through her head the entire time, most of them grim. Jill hadn’t been able to dispel them from her mind until their reunion. At the time, her mind was screaming with relief, the sounds of the voices around them dulled like watercolors rinsed down the sink. _Chris was safe, Chris was there, Chris wasn’t infected._

And Chris was _here_ , with her. He broke off the kiss and earned a soft whine of disapproval from Jill. His hand wandered, finding the pull to the zipper of her wetsuit, and he tugged at it carefully, loosening the fabric just enough to peel back the cloth and expose the full expanse of her collarbone. He buried his face there, beneath her clavicle, and briefly listened to the steady thrum of her heart.

He pulled away and studied her face, his brown eyes smoldering in a way that lit a spark deep in the pit of her belly. He found her zipper once more and pulled slowly and steadily, observing the fabric as it gave way to expose her pale skin. It was as much of a tease for himself as it was for her, a test of will between both patience and desire. Despite his urges, the splitting of her wetsuit continued, coming to a halt at the dip of her navel.

“This might be more challenging than your lingerie.” He grumbled, displeased with the way the cloth remained flush to her skin.

Though he was incredibly dextrous, Chris was still a man, and being in the presence of a nearly nude Jill Valentine muddled with his ability to undo the frills and lace of the intricate lingerie she often wore. Jill laughed and pulled herself away from the door's surface, moving past her partner to saunter into the open space of the apartment.

The sound of her footfalls against the grey oak flooring was drowned out by the blood that beat in his ears as she made her way towards the large bed that was positioned in the corner, framed by large windows that ran the height of the room. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the white curtains closed, the gauzy fabric somewhat sheer, but opaque enough to hide the finer details of her silhouette. It was very much a Jill thing to do, playing it safe despite being on the utmost floor of the building, certainly too high for prying eyes to witness.

Chris watched her as she remained turned away and faced the now concealed window as she rolled the wetsuit down her shoulders. She peeled the fabric away from each arm, one by one, and slowly stripped the suit away from her core, revealing the lean, toned curve of her back.

Only Jill Valentine could make the awkward shimmy of peeling off a wetsuit sexy. Chris was sure of that.

She leaned forward and angled her body at her hips, her thumbs looping into the opening of the garment. As she maneuvered, Chris observed the ripple of her spine, anxious for the revelation of more of her flesh. Her hips swayed slightly as she worked the compressive material down the column of her body, her full bottom coming into view and, eventually, the toned backsides of her thighs.

By the time she had stepped out of the clothing, Chris was behind her, his arms looped around her waist and pulling her back against his body. He pressed a kiss to the side of her face and allowed his hands to wander along to smooth flat of her belly. Jill leaned into him, appreciative of the warmth of his skin against hers.

His fingertips danced along the curve of her ribcage, and she inadvertently held her breath as his touch grew close to the underside of her breasts. Jill shuddered in anticipation, and Chris leaned forward, resting his chin against her shoulder to press a kiss against the shell of her ear.

From within his embrace, Jill turned, bringing herself to face him. She took a fistful of his shirt, tugging at the black fabric with insistence. He required little persuasion and yielded to her unspoken request, shrugging off the top and tossing it elsewhere in the room. Jill appreciated the view of his chiseled chest and he permitted her to explore his skin with both her mouth and her fingers, his own admiration evident in the quiet groans he made in tune with her actions.

Jill kneeled before him, her deft hands playing at the closure of his belt. Chris let out a long sigh as he watched her, restraint tested as he watched her work, her eyes focused on the tenting of fatigues. Before he could register the _clink_ of his belt colliding with the floor, Jill had already managed to free him from his fabric confines.

She did not hesitate to take his length into her hand, encircling the base of him as best as she could manage with her thumb and forefinger. Chris hissed, almost pained by the hardness of his manhood, and watched her give an experimental pump of her fist along his length.

“ _Jill._ ” It was a warning, she knew, a declaration of just how thin his patience was being worn. His partner paid it no mind. Instead, she looked up at him with those bright eyes he loved, and she pulled her lips into a quick smirk before taking him into her mouth.

When words failed her, Jill had always relied on her body to bring him comfort. She watched his eyes slip shut as she brushed the underside of him with the flat of her tongue, confident that the action would ward off his disturbing thoughts, if only for a while. Chris let out a low groan of approval as she began to move, bobbing her head back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace. The sound brought forth a sense of pride within her. She couldn’t promise him safety in their line of work, but she could certainly ease his suffering.

He exhaled slowly, lost in the feel of her hot, moist mouth as it worked him. Chris felt that familiar, white hot heat of impending release begin to smolder, and he grunted in warning, bucking his hips against her. She acquiesced, letting him slip out of her mouth with an audible _pop_ , her lips flushed and slightly swollen from her ministrations.

Gingerly, he eased her to her feet and crushed his mouth to hers once more. He kissed her wildly, his need for her unhinged, and he carefully eased her backwards toward the bed with a palm splayed against her back in the event that she tripped. She whimpered into his mouth as his free hand explored the inside of her thigh, discovering the wetness that glistened along the delicate skin.

She felt the soft edge of the bed at the backs of her thighs and Chris raised a knee, kneeling against the mattress as he eased her down onto it. He halfway straddled her as he kissed her, swallowing her moan as he found the soft flesh of her entrance. She parted her thighs, giving him better access to her sex, and Chris found that he liked the way she writhed beneath him when his thumb found her sensitive nub.

He slipped his fingers into her and bit his lip as he was granted with the whimper he so desperately desired. This was a side of Jill that he loved, a private part of her that was kept a secret to everyone but him. During their S.T.A.R.S. days, he had overheard the murmurs in the locker room, the accusations of her being an ice queen with the sexual prowess of an amoeba.

They had no _idea_ about the sounds he could draw from her.

Her hips bucked against his hand, the repetitive movement becoming clumsy and sporadic. He knew what it meant, but this time, he wanted to _hear_ her, terrified that it may be the last time.

“Hm?” He continued to work her, the muscles in his arm flexing with the strength of his movements. Jill’s back arched, forcing her hips further down the length of his fingers, and she hissed. He knew what she meant.

“ _Please_.”

It was enough for him. As soon as he had withdrawn his fingers from her, she felt the head of him probing at her entrance. She lifted her hips and thrust forward, taking in his entire length in one fell movement.

Her impatience nearly did him in. He looped an arm behind the nape of her neck and cradled her against him as he pushed forward, meeting her small, chaotic thrusts with his own, powerful and controlled. She gasped, one hand gripping his bicep for leverage as the other took a fistful of the sheet beneath them.

He slid in and out of her with ease, each thrust eliciting a soft mewl from his partner. He pressed a kiss against her temple and moved close to her ear.

“I missed you.” He whispered, voice gruff, “Missed _this_. Missed you being mine.”

Jill whimpered as she came undone beneath him and he pushed into her a final time, inspiring his own release. He held her close to him as he moaned into her ear, vision whited out as pleasure coursed through his body. Limp and spent, they curled into one another, unsure of where one’s body ended and the other began.

“Let’s retire.” He suggested, voice deepened in his half-asleep state.

Jill nodded against his shoulder and entwined her fingers with his. “No more scares.” She said, and he tightened his one-armed embrace.

After all they had gone through, they had become synonymous with one another. _Partners until the end_ , Jill had once told him, and he clung to that belief. O’Brian had forced them apart to play the pawns in his own charade, but he would not allow it to occur again. As far as he was concerned, there could be no longer be a Chris Redfield without Jill Valentine, and he never wanted to have to give that idea another thought.


End file.
